Margins— A Covert Narc Production Poem
No matter how it plays out with a narcissist, you’re just a footnote in THEIR life
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You detonate my days, you stalk my nights
You hold my rain in your shroud sail -
I watch the cloudy gloom and grey grow
Tall like chiseled stone. And when the deluge
Comes — when gushers fill my ground — I’m caught
Out here, alone.
Your dark entombs me.
You stone-step now across my face — you murder
Me by slow degree.
Quick homicide is not your cup
Of tea.
What incandescent light can I use now to see clear dawn?
Mirror-calm I detonate your lies, explode your
Skies, reduce you to a one-knight pawn -
And blazing nights will conjure days like thick
Dark hags — they stir inside me now, such loss -
I can’t explain this cauldron of regret.
You zero in on my affection, render me a little sick,
Too sweet for your salt taste. Am I your roulette win,
Your surest bet?
My trembling lips seek solace — what they
Find instead is You.
Your lustrous blood betrays me now
And you are sinking, silent, swift and bleak,
Beneath a lake of blue-green stone.
Your liquid water-weight demands a feast,
A sacrifice. You want a crucifixion.
I can’t command you anymore — you flee -
You go to ground. You move in time to rhythms
I can’t keep. Your feet descend too fast — your
Hands are acrobats — and softly now
You offer me a shadow-soul to take the place of
What I loved.
Why can’t you just be kind? But no.
You polish your artillery — and then you come for me.
I cannot stop this bruising war — your soldiers trot
Out cold for my inspection. My eyes are two
Boiled pools, reflecting your chameleon ways.
Some storms come quick — I learn to take my place
Among your drippy waterways. Among the
Thick dark weeds, you sink and rise.
We’re all just witnesses to your
Retreat. We’re all just footnotes now
To your small deeds. Among the
Margins we exist — we live in your backstory.
